Same Old Songs
by Aseikh
Summary: I will be attempting to do the 100 themes challenge, (which if you don't know about, there is a page on my blog). Here I will hope to spread my horizons a little bit, write more of what I'm not used to. Probably will not be 100 chapters, maybe more, maybe less. Numbers will be known by a number generator, and this will be updated whenever I want.
1. 029: Happiness

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, nor any of the characters used in this story.**

 **(A/N): I guess I'm actually doing this then. Ships will be marked by the prompt!. Please tell me what you think!**

* * *

 **029: HAPPINESS - Implied Jenny/Alyss**

For some reason, Alyss hadn't expected to be going out on a date with a woman in her life. She hadn't considered it as an option, actually. She always thought it would be man and woman, and that was that. She never thought otherwise, even when she felt a physical pain in her chest when she saw the way Jenny looked at Gilan at Halt and Pauline's wedding.

Man and woman, always. Otherwise—no child.

Maybe that was why she thought what she felt for Will was a romantic love, and what she saw in the apprentice cook to be a platonic friendship. Maybe that was why she kissed Will, even if she wasn't sure if it felt _right._

So when her former mentor Pauline sat her down one morning, alone after Will and Halt had left for a patrol, she wasn't exactly expecting questions that she got.

"Alyss, darling, who do you love?" Pauline asked, making a small flourish with her arms. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, something that looked oddly like something her husband would do. She had her grey-streaked blond hair pulled into a bun behind her head, but nothing tight to make her look severe. Just something to control her locks for the day. Recently, she had to get reading glasses for her work, and currently she had them tipped up on top of her head.

"Love? I love my family," Alyss replied, staying neutral. Narrowing her eyes, she smiled lightly at Pauline, making it known that she knew something was going on.

"But who? Are you in any relationships? Vying after anyone new?" Normally, her former mentor wasn't pushy about things like this, so it surprised Alyss for her to suddenly be asking these kinds of questions. What was odder was that she already knew the answer.

"You know that Will and I have been seeing each other, Pauline. What is this about?" Alyss leaned back, picking up a mug of coffee heavily dosed with milk. It tasted as if she should have held back on the milk.

Pauline did the same, although her's just had honey in it. "Yes, but do you love him? In a romantic way?" she said, keeping her eyes on the younger courier.

"Why are you suddenly interested in my love life?" _If she answers my questions with more questions, I'll just do the same._ Alyss tilted her head, and narrowed her eyes once more, knowing that she would eventually worm her mentor out.

Instead, the lady smiled. "Because you haven't seemed happy lately," she said simply.

It was a sad smile, the young girl realized.

Flustered, Alyss shakily sat down the mug, and crossed her legs and straightened out her dress as if nothing happened. "I don't know what you mean?" she murmured. Clenching her hands together on her lap, Alyss strained for her hands to stop shaking. Why were they even shaking? It wasn't as if she should be worried that Pauline would accuse her of cheating on Will, or something so outlandish.

"What I mean," Pauline said gently, setting down her mug. She stood, and moved her chair slightly to the side. Sitting back down, Pauline leaned forward, and took Alyss' hands in her own. "What I mean," she said again, "is that while I know you love Will, I do not believe that you love him in _that_ way."

"W-what?" Alyss started to pull her hands away from her mentor's, but found the contact too comforting. "What do you mean _that_ way?"

Pauline pulled away instead, standing up. "I think you'll realize eventually darling. But," the older courier paused, looking down to Alyss in the motherly way. "Don't force yourself into a relationship. Will would understand, he's a nice boy." At that, she turned away, and started to move towards the door of the room.

Alyss forced herself to her feet. "Will would understand what? I don't want to break up with him, Pauline—"

"I sense a 'but' coming after that," her mother said, turning back around at the door.

The young woman paused, suddenly not sure what the conversation was about.

 _But_ she didn't love Will in _that_ way.

 _But_ whenever she kissed him, she thought of someone else.

 _But_ who she wanted wasn't something that would be considered a normal relationship.

Pauline had been trying to tell her something, but hadn't wanted to come out straight with it. And Alyss felt that maybe she knew what her mentor was trying to say.

"Well, what else is there?" Alyss murmured, holding her hands in front of her. She looked down to the ground, wondering if Pauline could really see through her that easily. _So much for all of my training._

"What I'm trying to say, darling," Pauline moved back towards her, her voice softening, "is that don't force yourself into relationships that don't fit you. And don't feel forced into certain relationships because they seem normal or abnormal. Love who you want, and not who seems socially acceptable." Alyss felt Pauline stop in front of her. A second later, and she was wrapped in a comforting hug from her mentor, one that she hadn't realized that she needed.

After a long moment, Alyss pulled away, wiping her eyes. She hadn't realized that she had started to cry. "Do you know where Jenny is?"


	2. 071: Obsession

**071: OBSESSION - Will/Alyss**

They all said it was unhealthy for him to be like this. But ever since the incident, they had never understood. They thought it was a way for him to get his grief out, that after a while it would go away, and he would go back to work. That everything would go back to normal.

Normal—except Will would be a widower, and Alyss would be dead.

Will studied his papers, spread out on what used to be his dinner table. Now, it was covered in papers, old and new, ignored and obsessed over, important and casual. His kitchen counter was covered in dirty plates—what was momentary dirtiness to capturing Alyss' murderer?

Ruhl was a tricky bastard. Somehow, he traveled without anyone knowing where he was going, so the only thing he had to go by was his attacks. He wasn't going in any general direction, but seemed to hop all over the place. And it wasn't easy to get to a site, and follow his tracks from there. By the time he would get there, something would have happened to the tracks to ruin them. The only tell was that he seemed to stay far south. Redmont wasn't north or south, but moreover in the middle. It would be hard to get to the place in time before something obliterated the tracks.

No one so far had been able to follow after them. No Ranger would be able to follow them far, for one reason or another.

Clenching his fists, Will closed his eyes. Gilan must've told the other Rangers something. Not to tell him anything about Ruhl. Lie to him, about his locations. To not 'feed his obsession'. The fact that he was impeding his investigation didn't piss him off, but that Gilan thought there was nothing he could do about it _did_ piss him off. Ruhl was a damn bandit, a clever one, but a bandit all the same. He shouldn't be excluded from the gallows just because he managed to get in a good blow with a Ranger. It just meant he should be sent there faster.

All that night, Will couldn't help but imagine what would happen the moment he got his hands on Ruhl.

 _Will looked down on Ruhl, who had fallen to his knees at Will's feet. He was begging to be given mercy, that it was a mistake, him murdering Alyss. It was nothing personal._

 _He would ignore Ruhl's pleas, and would still draw his saxe. He would be holding the bastard's collar so he wouldn't be able to run. Ruhl would struggle—but to no avail._

No, that wasn't right. It would be satisfying, cutting his throat and feeling his blood flow down his hands, but it wouldn't be _right._ Not for Alyss.

 _After their final fight in the barn, Will would look down at his unconscious body, limp in the hay. He was still alive, even after taking a good beating from Will's fists._

 _Will would tie his hand to the bar, and light the barn on fire on his way out. The hay would light up quick, and Ruhl would be awakened by the smell of his burning flesh._

That was more satisfying. But would he get the same pain Alyss had felt?

Halt found him with his head on the table, fast asleep. Halt had gotten in a habit of checking on Will late at night, knowing that he would be passed out from working himself to death during the day. Usually, the old Ranger would find new papers spread around him, more information on Ruhl, with his assignments buried beneath.

As usual, Halt collected a few of the papers, most of which were unmarked, with notes and the like, about Ruhl. He would flip through them, and choose the important ones out, and place them before Will once more. Then he would go to the fire, and throw the extra papers into the fire. If he didn't burn the papers, Will would lose everything to the clutter. Everything always ended up on the same few papers, because Will remembered. When he couldn't find the papers, he would write from memory onto a different sheet.

That left him with a few main papers with all of his information, and other papers with nothing but a few words on them.

Sighing, Halt looked down on his former apprentice, studying what he had become. He hadn't shaved in a long while, not since he heard the news about Alyss. His hair was long enough to be tied up, something that Alyss hadn't been a big fan of, so Will had always kept it short. His clothes were also dirty, all of them. The ones he wore had stains on them, although considering Halt didn't see any food around, he didn't know what would be staining it.

Falling into routine, as if Will was once more his apprentice and was sick with a fever, Halt began to clean things up. He collected all of Will's soiled clothes, putting them into a basket so he could wash them later. He went outside to collect water from the river, and then brought out the dirty dishes out so he could scrub them with sand. Before he started that, he grabbed the basket full of clothes, and dunked them into the freezing water. He did the clothes first, scrubbing them clean with soap, and hanging them to dry from the porch. He took Will's undergarments, and laid them out to dry in the spare bedroom. Then Halt went back out, and did the dishes, scrubbing them clean with soap and sand. After carrying them back inside and putting them in their correct places, Halt looked around once more. Will was still passed out on the table.

Shrugging, Halt built the fire higher, knowing it would get colder as the night went on. After that, he went outside to double check on Tug—and was glad to see that despite Will's mess inside, he still cared for Tug better than he cared for himself. The horse turned in its stall, snorting at the sight of Halt.

Going back inside, Halt checked one last time to see if there was anything else he could do. Acting on second thought, Halt walked into Will's room, and began to straighten the bed. As he was picking up the covers that had been kicked off, something white fell out of them.

One of Alyss' dresses.

Gingerly, Halt dropped the sheets to bend down and pick up the dress. It was one of her newer ones—she had been fitted for new ones, for some reason, before leaving. Will had gotten the package of new dresses the same day he had learned of her death.

The style was different from a normal courier dress. Beneath the breasts, it was gathered up with a small twist, where it would drape down and form perfectly against any body type. Even large bellies would be accommodated with little stretch, due to the extra cloth that was seamlessly added in. It probably had to do with the cut that made it seem so flowy.

Halt froze, studying the design.

Slowly, he folded up the dress, and set it on the bedside table. Halt finished up doing the bed, no longer caring if it was perfect or not. Before he left, he picked up the dress, and wrapped it into the parcel wrap that he had found on the floor.

He left Will's cabin, closing the door quietly, just before midnight. Clutching the package to his chest, he walked down the path by himself, having not bothered to bring Abelard this night. He would need to get rid of the dress—he couldn't let Will figure out what it was. It would ruin him.

Because it was a maternity dress.

Alyss had been pregnant.


	3. 028: Sorrow

**028: SORROW**

Will angrily pulled his arm from Horace's grip. "What the hell do you think you're saying?" Will snapped, taking a step away from Horace. The knight, not knowing what else to do, stepped forward, and tried to take hold of Will's arm again. If he didn't, he didn't know what Will would do in his grief.

"Will, please," Horace tried, his voice cracking with his own grief. "Please, I'm just trying to help—"

"Help me?" Will laughed, but not out of humor. "Help _me?_ Why don't we go help the person who's _dying,_ Horace." The knight winced in response, knowing that he couldn't bring the news to Will himself. It was too unbearable. Especially seeing how his friend was with just the hint of death he thought was close . . . no telling what would happen when he found out the truth.

Horace shut his eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling. He had to stay strong, for Will at least. Until he found out the truth. "Please, Will," Horace tried again, whispering without looking at the Ranger. "Please. Just . . . just stop." Horace covered his eyes with his hands, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears much longer. "Pauline . . . Pauline wants to see you."

When no response came, Horace uncovered his eyes, and opened them, no longer able to keep the tears at bay. He had thought Will had left, leaving him by himself to cry. But instead he found Will still standing in front of him, no longer angry. He was just silently considering Horace, looking at the tears that now flowed, how hunched over Horace was, how his normally steady hands shook. Will's face was blank as he took in all of this, but to Horace, who watched him back, it looked as if Will aged a decade right in front of him. His shoulders drooped, the dark circles underneath his eyes from the sleepless nights of worrying darkened, and his eyes, previously wide from anger, grew tired, and his eyelids dropped.

"I just want this to be over," Will whispered, now his voice cracking, "I just want everything to be back to the way it was before, Horace."

Shaking his head, Horace looked away. The sudden change from white-hot anger to grief-stricken despair made his heart ache. "Let's go talk to Pauline," he said instead, holding out his hand.

Will looked at it for a moment, and then looked back up to Horace's face. Then, silently, Will took his hand, and let his friend lead him to the old courier.

Pauline was waiting for them, in her room. She looked up as Horace entered the room without knocking, Will trailing numbly behind him. He knew what was coming, but he didn't want to accept it.

Smiling sadly, Pauline stood to meet them. Horace released Will's hand, and stepped to the side so the Ranger could face the courier by himself.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Will whispered bluntly, looking Pauline in the face without a trace of emotion on his own. "He's gone," he repeated, as if he couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth.

Once more, Pauline nodded sadly. "He passed in his sleep, Will," she said gently, "early this morning."

For a moment, nothing happened. Horace couldn't see Will's face from where he stood, but he saw Pauline's face soften. Will's shoulder's began to shake, and, slowly, one of his hands raised to cover his mouth as his head dropped. His other arm wrapped around his torso, as if trying to hold in something.

But he wasn't going to throw up. Not then.

Will let out a great, gasping sob, his shoulder's hitching as it escaped his mouth. Horace couldn't move himself to go comfort his friend, but instead found his tears running afresh.

Pauline, always in control of herself, stepped up to the plate instead. She brought her hands around his shoulders, drawing him into her embrace. Will continued to sob, even as she held him.

Horace watched them, frozen in spot. He wondered, despite the situation, how Pauline could always maintain herself, and think of others first, in any situation. Even just after the death of her husband, she still comforted Will, before she even thought to confront her own grief. Horace took a heavy breath, and put a hand to his chest, above his heart.

With Halt gone, things would be hard. Horace closed his eyes, and listened to Will's sobs and Pauline's comforting murmurs as the knight used his palm to put pressure on his chest. It was easier to focus on physical pain, than to even think to focus on the emotional pain Halt's passing had caused.


	4. 087: Food

**087: FOOD**

"So who cooked this meal?" Jenny said, smiling as she sat down beside her date. Gilan smiled back at her, taking her hand underneath the table, almost as a sign that _yes, they were finally together._

Will glanced at Alyss, a smile playing on his own lips. Alyss sat herself across from Jenny, sliding onto the bench by tucking her hands underneath her bottom to make sure her dress was beneath her. "I did," Will said from the small kitchenette that the Ranger cabin had, "I thought I would try that recipe you gave me a few weeks ago."

"Oh, the breaded parmesan chicken?" Jenny leaned forward eagerly, sniffing the air. "That's one of my favorites."

"Hope I don't disappoint," Will said after hesitating a moment. His eyes flicked to where Alyss sat, and she returned his gaze with a slight shrug and an eye roll.

Gilan stood from where he sat, his hand sliding out of Jenny's hand. "Here Will, let me help." He was over in the kitchenette with Will before he could protest. Sidling up beside him, Gilan began helping him collect the dishes, glasses, and utensils, allowing Will to hold the platter with the chicken pieces by himself. "You have no idea what she's talking about, do you?" Gilan whispered, eyeing his friend.

Pursing his lips, Will heaved the platter up, and looked to him. "No clue."

Moving around the table, Gilan placed some dishes in front of the women, and dishes in his and Will's spots, while Will placed the platter in the center of the table, in between a bowl of fresh fruit and some fresh baked bread.

"Bon appetite," Will smiled, flourishing his hands.

Jenny crinkled her nose, looking suspiciously at the dish.

"When did you make this, hon," Alyss said quickly, leaning forward. Will hadn't seen Jenny's face, but both she and Gilan had. "I don't remember seeing you work on this?"

"I did it when you went to fetch these two. I knew Gilan was a day behind in his travels, so I knew you would be there for a while." He winked, looking between his two guests and his wife. "Time management, right?"

Gilan smiled, the sun-burned skin around his eyes crinkling. "Next time I come here, I'm not letting you know if I left late or otherwise."

Sitting back down, Will patted Alyss' thigh, before reaching out with a knife to get a piece of the chicken. "Who wants the first piece?" Even before he had finished speaking, both Alyss and Gilan had picked up their plates, and held them out. Dishing out the pieces, everyone but himself and Jenny had taken one. "Which piece, Jen?" Will said, oblivious to her expression.

It was a long moment, before she spoke—and it wasn't until later that Will found out that she had only spoken because Alyss kicked her shin underneath the table. "Oh," the cook murmured, eyeing the meat, "I think I'll have that one there." She motioned towards the piece that was slightly smaller than the other, and held out her plate, somewhat hesitantly, while Will picked the piece up and set it on her plate. He put the last piece on his plate, before finally sitting down beside Alyss.

No one had started eating yet, all staring down at their plates while awkwardly avoiding Will's eye contact. "You waiting for me or something?" he asked with a nervous smile, lifting his knife and spearing the chicken with his fork. He started to cut into his piece, slowing down once he realized that no one had followed suit. ". . . everything alright?"

Alyss smiled, taking his hand instead of her fork or knife. "I think we're just waiting for the host to take the first bite. It's the polite thing to do."

Will frowned, looking suspiciously between his wife and guests. "Really? I've never heard that."

"It's a new fad," Gilan said, his mouth full of fresh baked bread. His chicken lay untouched. Raising his eyebrow, Will appraised Gilan, suspecting some sort of trick. Gilan nodded, both eyebrows going up. He smiled to compensate for Will's dubious look.

"Go ahead, Will," Alyss said, putting both of her hands on her lap, "I'm dying to try some."

Looking down on the meat, he looked back and forth between their meal and Alyss' face, which looked . . . different. After a brief hesitation, he speared a cut piece on his fork, and put it in his mouth, eyes flicking between Gilan, Jenny, and Alyss, all who stared at him as if waiting for something. It made him think that they knew something he didn't. He swallowed.

And then the taste hit him.

Gagging, Will stumbled to his feet, pushing back the bench. Alyss grabbed ahold of the side so she wouldn't topple over herself. Jenny watched from the other side of the table with amusement on her face, as well as Gilan. Will ran to the sink, spitting out the meat and gagging some more. "What the . . . what the hell?" he gasped, as he coughed out some more chicken bits.

"Did you use the meat in the freezer?" Alyss said quietly, coming up behind him with a glass of water.

"Yea? Why?"

"Don't you remember me telling you that you needed to get rid of that meat because it was getting a bad smell?" She set a hand on his shoulder, and threw a glare over her shoulder at Gilan and Jenny's snickers. Will leaned over the sink, taking sips of the water and swishing it in his mouth before spitting it out in the sink.

"My employees should still have the eating house open," Jenny said from her spot, "and we have this new mocha pie that should take that moldy chicken taste right out of your mouth!"

Glancing over the rim of the sink, Will looked at Jenny, his eyes narrowing. "Sounds good to me," he mumbled. From the way she said it, it almost sounded as if she planned for this to happen.

And then his eyes went wide, and he doubled back over the sink, his shoulders heaving.


	5. 087: Food - BONUS!

**087: FOOD - BONUS!**

"So what did you need me here for?" Horace settled down on the chair, smiling up at Jenny. She had just gotten a new apron, splurging with her new money that her eating house had earned her. "I have a class to teach in a few hours, so I hope you don't need me here for long."

Straightening her apron, a light, baby blue with white outlining, Jenny brought out a medium sized bowl with a sort of soup in it. "I need a taste tester for new recipes. Hope you don't mind?"

Horace smiled, placing a napkin on his lap, and another in his collar. Rubbing his hands together, Horace's eyes tracked the bowl as it was brought to his table and placed in front of him. "Oh, not at all, Jen. So what's this?"

"French onion soup. Ever heard of it?" She placed the bowl in front of him, left, and then came back with another plate with some crackers.

Without hesitation, Horace picked up the spoon, and dug into the soup. Jenny sat across from him, tugging in her chair as a waiter passed behind her. The business was still going on around them, plenty of villagers sitting in there for lunch. At least four waiters and waitresses moved through the maze of tables and chairs and benches, while a bartender managed the front. Several cooks could be seen in the back, moving around and flipping different foods and mixing other combinations.

"So?" Jenny rested her chin on intertwined fingers while her elbows were resting on the tabletop.

Horace continued to shovel the soup into his mouth. "Mmm," he mumbled through a full mouth, nodding his head.

"Wanna try the steak with the new marinade?"

Wordlessly, Horace nodded enthusiastically, bringing his spoon around the side of the bowl to catch anything he had missed.

Jenny stood from her seat, and waved to someone who stood in the kitchen, apparently talking to a few of the cooks. "Erik! Bring in the steak, with the mashed potatoes!"

"Mashed potatoes?" Horace asked, looking up to Jenny.

"Do you not want them?" She looked down uncertainly, her hand turned away so Erik knew to hold.

"No, nonono," Horace said, "I want the mashed potatoes."

Smiling, Jenny waved for Erik to continue in.

Horace had eaten the soup, the full steak as well as the potatoes, some chicken, something Jenny called a "mango smoothie" (whatever a mango was), and multiple other full meals within the next hour.

Jenny stood beside Horace, looking down on him as he scarfed down some other soup she had put in front of him. "Horace, darling," she said, shaking her head, "I've never seen you eat this much in such a short time before."

"That's because," he said through mouthfuls of food, "no cook in Castle Araluen even _compares_ to your cooking, Jenny."

"Awh," Jenny said with a wide grin, "thank you, Horace."

He nodded, finishing off the soup.

"Want some pie?" she continued with a mischievous smile.

"Ahhh," Horace moaned, "gimme all the pie."


	6. 030: Under the Rain

**030: UNDER THE RAIN**

"Thank you for the meal, Will," Alyss said, smiling. She turned away from the fire, setting down the empty coffee mug on the side table. "I have to get going, though. Pauline and I have to leave for Caraway tomorrow morning." She stood, collecting her sweater from where she had thrown it over the couch.

Will stood with her, his cheeks still a little red from getting so close to her. She had initiated things, sitting closer to him, leaning against him—even leading his arm around her shoulders—and he had followed suit. Following her to the door, he comfortably set a hand on her waist to turn her around.

Alyss turned, slipping her sweater on and grabbing her bag from the hook beside the door. Will took his jacket, not bothering with his cloak. "How 'bout I walk you back?" he said, smiling. He had picked her up from the castle on Tug, but both knew that walking would take longer—in turn giving them more time together. Alyss would be gone for at least a month for her trip to Caraway, and both would miss the other.

The courier nodded, and together they walked out the door, holding hands.

Walking through the cabin's clearing, the trees covered the sky from view. Not that Will was paying attention to the sky—his eyes were focused on Alyss as they walked and talked.

"We hope to be finished with all the formal stuff within the first week," Alyss continued, answering Will's question about her trip, "but we'll have to stay around for another week or two to be polite. The Baron's wife will be returning during the last week of the month, and we're expected to be there for her return, considering Pauline's relationship with her."

"So just because Pauline is friends with a woman who isn't going to be there in the first week, you have to stay there?" Will asked, completely confused by the formalities the two women had to go through to avoid offending anyone. "But that doesn't make sense," he started, "you have a job to do, so you're just going to sit around for two weeks when you could be coming back here to continue your regular work—"

"Will," Alyss interrupted, laughing. He seemed to get confused so often by her work, especially the actions that had to do with not offending anyone involved. "Let's just say that if we offend anyone, Pauline would lose her 'friend', and Caraway would be a lot less cooperative in the future."

Walking down the trail, Will started to swing their clasped hands. He shoved his other hand into the pocket of his jacket. "But that shouldn't matter, considering they're still apart of Araluen. They have to listen to Duncan no matter what."

Alyss shrugged, looking up into the canopy of branches and leaves dyed the colors of autumn. "Yes, but it's a lot easier when they're willing to cooperate in the first place, Will. Yes, Duncan can force them to comply, but why not have them volunteer to comply without having any problems in doing so?" The young courier used her free hand to brush some stray strands of hair out of her face, and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"So you're basically wasting two weeks so Duncan can have an easier time in case he needs to ask a favor from the Baron of Caraway?" he asked, incredulous. He didn't see that time as worth it, knowing that Duncan had power over them either way. The loss of regular work time just didn't seem worth it to him.

The trail ended at the edge of the woods, bringing them to the edge of Wensley village. The night sky was covered by fast moving black clouds, coming from the north. Will frowned. It looked as if a storm was being conjured, and he didn't exactly want to get caught in anything huge without his cloak. He didn't want Alyss to be caught in anything without better coverage as well, considering she wore a white dress and white sweater.

"Looks like a storm is being cooked up," he murmured, still looking up at the sky as he walked through the town with Alyss. Pretty much no one was walking about, everyone in their homes probably due to the encroaching clouds. Only the tavern had people outside, some of the patrons standing outside and pointing up at the swirling clouds.

"You don't have to walk me all the way," Alyss responded, looking into the sky. "Maybe you should head back to avoid getting drenched."

At that moment, one of the tavern's customers let out a whistle, and called out something about Alyss' ass in a slurred voice. Her cheeks colored, but she continued walking as if she hadn't heard anything. Will, however, looked over his shoulder, marking the man who had whistled out of the crowd. The man's eyes went wide, realizing that the girl he had just catcalled was walking with the local Ranger. Will noted him, recognizing him as Walter Leonard, a farmer from the outskirts of Wensley.

"Don't hurt him, Will," Alyss whispered, looking to Will as he glared over his shoulder. "He's drunk." She said it either way, knowing that it wasn't an excuse for his actions.

"I know," Will grumbled, "but considering my knowledge of that man, I bet I'll have to do something about him eventually."

The sky cracked, but neither of them noticed as they walked down the main street, heading towards the Tarbus river bridge. "What do you mean?" Alyss looked down on their hands, a tired look in her eyes.

"I've seen his wife and children. They always have new bruises after he comes home drunk. If I see Tira or Cal with any new marks on them, I'm arresting the bastard for abuse, assault, and probably harassment as well. It won't keep him locked up for good, but it will get Tira and Cal out of there, and put a leash on his drinking."

"But there's no guarantee if that will actually happen," Alyss said, eyeing Will.

"No," he amended, "but he'll know that I know his habits, and that I have my eye on him. And Tira and Cal will have my protection if they leave, or if they can't bring themselves to leave him. Either way, he will change his habits, or I'll change them for him."

The wood clanked as the pair stepped onto the bridge in unison, their hands still swinging between them. And seconds after, the sky cracked once more, lightning lighting up the sky and thunder booming from the north.

And then the rain came down. It didn't even start with a drizzle, but came down right away in torrents.

Alyss flinched from the sudden onslaught of hard rain, soaking through her clothes in seconds. Her white dress and sweater stuck to her, causing her to snatch her hand away from Will's, and crossing her arms in front of her breasts. They had stopped in the middle of the bridge. Will stood looking up in the sky, amazed by the force at which the storm started. He looked down as Alyss tore her hand away, and immediately noticed her predicament.

"Ahm." Will blushed, and looked away with his face burning. Quickly, he loosened his jacket, and pulled it off. It was already sopping, but the cloth was a dark green. He held it out to Alyss, who quickly grabbed it, and put it around her shoulders and closed it, letting her be able to drop her arms. That left her legs plastered with the white cloth of her dress, but luckily she had worn dark tights that morning, and nothing could be seen.

Taking her elbow, Will pulled her off the bridge, leading her back towards the gates of Redmont. The short walk up the hill left them covered in mud and giggling, Will having fallen twice, the second time bringing Alyss down with him. Mud was covering the cobblestones of the path, making it harder for them to walk. When they were within sight of the gates, two guards came running down to help, slipping in the mud as they rushed down the hill.

Will snorted at the sight of Gabe and Lilac, who he recognized immediately from the blaze orange hair and the long blond braid, tumbling towards them, missing the fact that Alyss had stepped out of the way. Moments later, Will was taken down by the rolling and struggling guards.

Alyss burst out laughing, watching from her higher vantage point as Will and the two guards rolled halfway down the hill before stopping. All three were laughing, covered in mud, and soaked, but nonetheless had wide smiles as they helped each other to their feet, one slipping and sprawling back on the ground after the other two had finally stood.

Eventually, all three stood on their feet, and carefully made their way up the muddy path. The rain, still coming down in sheets, didn't make things any easier, but after their accident, the Ranger and guards knew to take things slow so not to slip. After a little while, they made it back up to where Alyss stood, holding her gut as she gasped for breath. Will slung his arm over her shoulders, laughing with her as she snorted and covered her mouth with one hand.

"Sorry about that, Lady Alyss, Ranger Will," Gabe laughed, brushing soaked orange hair from his face, as he still tried to put a handle on his amusement. "We just wanted to help."

Will scoffed, mocking pretend anger. "Well, you didn't do too well of a job." His act didn't last that long though. Will reached up, intending to put a hand through his hair but found instead that his head and face were covered with mud. Will snorted, dragging his hand away from his head covered in mud.

"Might need a bath, sir," Lilac laughed, her face scrunched up from her amusement and partially held back laughter.

Waving them away, Will continued with Alyss towards the keep with his arm still around her shoulders. Her opposite arm was wrapped around his waist, which drew the two of them close enough so that their hips touched. At the door to the keep, Alyss let her arm slip from him, so they faced each other.

Amusement still in her eyes, she bent her knees partially and kissed him briefly on the lips. Pulling away, she took his hand with a smile. Will watched her with a matching smile, extending his arm as she walked through the door without him.

"Thanks for the fun time, Will," she said, her eyes studying his face. "I haven't laughed like that in a while."

Their hands slipped out of the other's, and Alyss closed the door silently, while Will stood out in the rain. After the door closed, Will hesitated a minute, the brief kiss already replaying in his mind. Just as he started to turn away, the door opened once more.

Alyss stepped back out into the rain, biting her lip as she reached for Will's hand to stop him. "Why don't you stay the night, Will," she said, looking up into the sky, "no point in walking all the way back to the cabin through that weather."

Will studied her face, recognizing the invitation. Tilting his head, he looked into the sky, as if appraising how much longer it would be pouring. During his time in the rain, it had already washed most of the muck out of his hair and face, but it was still coming out of Alyss' blond hair. He smiled, squeezing her hand. "You won't have time for a bath in the morning, will you?"

She smiled covertly, "No, probably not."

Keeping his hand in her's this time, she started to lead him through the door and into the keep. Will followed, a smirk spreading across his face as the door closed behind him.


	7. 097: Safety First

**097: SAFETY FIRST - Implied Will/Alyss**

Tapping the table with his finger, Will stared at his plate of scrambled eggs, not sure what was wrong with them. He had cooked them himself, and they looked fine when he had taken them out of the pan and placed them on his plate. He had also made Alyss' eggs in the same batch, and she was eating her's merrily across from him, studying a paper about a problem she had to deal with today. Taking another cautious bite of the eggs, he chewed slowly. They tasted… soggy.

Poking the eggs with his fork, he noticed there with a thin film of a clear liquid on them. Will scowled, pushing the plate back. They were no good anymore, and tasted disgusting. He wondered if Ebony would eat them, not wanting to waste the eggs.

Will snatched up his coffee, needing something in his stomach before he got to work. Just as he was about to take a much needed gulp, something splashed into the cup.

The Ranger paused, squinting at the dark liquid in his mug, wondering if he was seeing things.

Something splashed again, landing directly into the coffee.

Raising an eyebrow, Will slowly looked up, wondering what was happening. He leaned forward, about where his plate of eggs had been, staring directly upwards.

"Everything all right, Will?" Alyss said, sounding slightly amused.

"I think," he said, studying the ceiling, "there may be a—" A drop hit him directly on the nose.

"A leak?" Alyss finished for him, staring at him with a slight grin.

Will scowled, and pulled away from the table. Grabbing the plate of eggs, he walked over towards the door, and dumped them in Ebony's bowl. He continued over to the kitchenette, where he placed the plate on the counter. Opening a cabinet, he rummaged through it before he came out with a medium sized bowl. Alyss watched him as he walked back to the table, and placed the bowl on top of where a dot of water could be seen. Just as he placed it, another one fell, plunking into the bowl with a slight metallic ring.

"Guess I know what I'm doing today," Will muttered, not believing that, of all the time he's lived here, the roof had a leak.

"I thought you had to start patrolling today," Alyss said, picking up her own empty plate and moving to put it atop Will's on the counter.

Crossing his arms, Will watched with squinted eyes as multiple other drops came down, landing in the bowl. It already had a thin sheen of water at the bottom. "I'll fix this first," he grumbled, "who knows how bad it'll get if I leave it for three days."

"I could get someone from the village to do it while you're away," Alyss said, trying to reason with him. She knew he enjoyed going up onto the roof, but during the winter it wasn't safe. Now that all the snow on the roof was melting with the coming of spring, it would be covered in ice, from the constant freezing and refreezing, running and melting. That was what probably caused the leak—the expanding and contracting of the roof, for years, finally caused it to crack.

"How 'bout this," Will said, knowing that someone from the village would be more qualified for this, "I put something up there right now to stop the leak, and I'll leave after an hour or two. Then, later, you get someone from the village to come fix it for real."

At that, Alyss realized there was no possible way she was stopping Will from going up onto the roof.

She watched as he got dressed for the chilly weather, pulling on a jacket over a think sweater. He didn't collect his cloak, as it would have only got in his way as he climbed. He pulled on his boots, lacing them up tight. Alyss followed, grabbing her cloak as she went out the door.

By the time she was out there, Will had already put a foot up on the porch railing, and was swinging himself up by using the wooden beam at the edge of the stairs, and grabbing onto the edge of the roof.

"Be careful," Alyss called after him as he effortlessly pulled himself onto the roof.

"I know," Will said back, studying the roof. He was crouched on the edge, looking up as he tried to determine where the table would be situated. "The table . . ." he said, more or less to himself, but Alyss heard him anyways, "would be . . . about . . ." he walked up the roof, barely even crouching even as the melting ice cracked underneath the pressure. He slipped once, but he quickly caught his balance, and didn't see Alyss' eyes go wide, or her hands going up to cover her mouth. "It would be about right here." Will crouched down, finally, near the peak of the roof. He started brushing away some snow, studying the roof intently.

Just then, Alyss realized he hadn't brought any tools up there with him. "Will?" she asked, uncertain if it was safe for him to be distracted while up there. "Will, you didn't bring anything with you."

He nodded and waved, probably not even registering what she said. Alyss grumbled something under her breath, knowing that _something_ was going to happen _._

Suddenly, Will stood. "I just wanted to locate the leak," he said, responding to her question. "I'll—" he had been heading down, probably intending to walk to the edge and have her get the tools for him.

But as he stood, the heel of his foot caught on some of the ice he had chipped up, causing him to slip. His foot went up into the air, his bottom landed on the point of the roof, and he began to slid down.

Backwards.

Towards the other side of the house, where Tug's lean-to was.

Alyss didn't manage even a gasp. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. She was frozen in spot, even has she heard Will yell out as he fell off the edge of the roof, even as she heard a slam and a whinny of surprise from Tug, even as she heard _another_ yell as Will rolled of the lean-to's roof, and he fell onto the ground.

It took her a moment before she could move, but when she finally could, she rushed around the cabin, hoping that her husband hadn't just broken his neck.

What she found, instead, was Will cursing as he rolled around in the pile of half-melted snow, holding his wrist that was twisted at an odd angle. Tug, who had come out of his lean-to, stared down at his owner, looking as bewildered as a horse possibly could. As she approached, slightly aghast and amused with the curses that Will was coming up with—some originating from Skandia, some in different languages, some he could have learned only from Halt or Gilan, and some being completely original—she placed a hand on Tug's shoulder.

The little horse turned, looking her in the eye. They exchanged looks at each other, before turning together to stare at Will.


	8. 097: Safety First - BONUS REQUEST

**097: SAFETY FIRST – BONUS!/REQUEST – Implied Horace/Gilan/Will**

Gilan tapped Horace's shoulder, leaning forward so his lips were at the knight's ear. "Now's our chance to impress Will," he whispered, eyeing the sick Ranger sitting up on the porch. Horace turned, his eyes suspicious.

"Now? What would we even do?" Horace said back, quietly.

Will watched them from the porch, not able to hear what they were whispering about. He was curled up on one of the chairs, his cheeks red and his shoulders wrapped in a thick blanket, despite the spring weather being perfect. As he waited for them to come back, he sniffled, and reached for a handkerchief from the table beside him to wipe his nose.

"He's sick, he's probably bored . . ." Gilan trailed off, seemingly expecting Horace to understand with just those hints.

"And . . . he'll want company?" Horace said, confused. "We should get back to him, he's looking at us."

Gilan hooked an arm around Horace, looking like he was about to kiss him. But, being the last couple anyone would think would happen, their relationship was still a secret. "Let's go demonstrate to Will how to disarm a sword from an attacker."

"Wait, what?" Horace barely managed as Gilan dragged him back towards the cabin.

"Will!" Gilan said, a large grin on his face, "Horace wanted to practice disarms, wanna watch?"

"I _what_?" Horace broke in, incredulous and still confused as to what was happening. He slipped out from Gilan's arm, his hand landing on his sword. Not that he was going to use it.

"Sure," Will muttered, shifting his position and smoothing out the blanket he was underneath. "Why not?" His eyes flicked between Gilan and Horace, undoubtedly suspecting something.

Without waiting to see if his partner followed, Gilan jumped away and walked to a clear area in front of the porch, making sure Will had a clear view of him. Thankfully, Horace had followed, drawing his sword uncertainly, and watching Gilan's movements. Gilan drew out his sword, pointing it towards Horace's feet. Horace copied Gilan's stance.

In truth, obviously, Horace knew how to disarm someone. He was actually quite good at it, as was Gilan.

Will knew this.

He also knew that the way Gilan and Horace tended to disarm people usually had to do with either weakening the wrist with a cut, or hitting the opponent. Sure, they could do without either of those actions, but the state Gilan was in, and how Horace was acting, he doubted either one of them realized or remembered this detail.

Will smiled, looking between the two of them as they mocked a short sword fight. He wondered, to himself of course, if they were fighting over him, or if they were trying to impress him together, to get him in bed with _both_ them.

Knowing it was the latter, Will sat back with a slight grin.

Gilan knocked Horace's sword to the side, glancing over to Will to see what he was doing. Seeing the grin, and not knowing what it was for, Gilan continued. Horace, who was still completely concentrated on _not getting hurt_ because _these are actual swords,_ didn't see Will's grin.

Being distracted for the moment caused Gilan to lose the stride of the battle, Horace's sword slipped through his guard, and his free hand came up, twisting so his elbow was in front. It slammed, none too softly, straight into Gilan's nose.

"Halt!" Will yelled, gasping as he saw the blood spurt. He turned towards the cabin door, banging on the wall. Tangled in the blanket as he was, he found that he couldn't get up.

Horace dropped his sword, seeing Gilan go down, possibly out cold. Not knowing what else to do, he went to his knees beside Gilan, his hands wavering in the air above him, not sure what to do.

Out of nowhere, Halt came out of the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him. Seeing the mess that was Gilan, still suspiciously still as the blood poured out of his nose, he cursed.

"Don't you boys have _any_ self-control?" Halt snarled, stomping down the steps towards them. Horace scrambled out of Halt's way, despite Gilan moaning and asking for him.

Seeing the scene in front of him, Will paused. His mug of coffee was still warm beside him, and his legs were still wrapped tightly in the blanket. Settling back, Will took hold of his mug, and pulled the blanket up his chest. _Might as well enjoy the show,_ he thought to himself with a smile.


	9. 037: Eyes

**037: EYES**

It was always the eyes that gave them away.

Narrowing his eyes, Will studied the man's flashing ice blue eyes. It wasn't the color of the eyes that gave them away, not exactly, but how that color translated their emotions. The whitish blue caught the flicker of the dying fire that the Innkeeper hadn't bothered to restock, which also cast the rest of the man's face into shadow. From across the room, he would have looked like any other man, although maybe he was a bit too intent on the mug of whiskey he stared down into.

Okay, so it wasn't the color that set him apart, nor was it the way the fire basked him in light while at the same time obscuring obvious details about the man.

It was the way he watched the room; not directly to draw the suspicions of the dish washing boy, but how he seemed to calculate his perusions of the room by when the least amount of people were looking his way. Considering that even the Innkeeper didn't know of Will's presence, the young Ranger knew that he had hidden himself away adequately when the man's eyes skipped right over his seat.

Will continued to follow the man's eyes. They jumped from the waitress' skirt hem to the hunting knife strapped to a man's belt, only to fix straightly down on the half-empty cup of whiskey he clutched to his chest. A few seconds later, they once more jumped upwards, skittering off the stuttering fire to the Innkeep's boy, who stood behind the bar with his father, learning the ropes of the innkeep craft. The eyes flickered with remorse for a moment, before once more looking down to reflect the amber liquid. This time when they looked up, they hooked on the fire, which reflected clearly in the paleness of his eyes. From how icy the eyes looked, Will was momentarily surprised when the eyes held their circular shape, and didn't melt.

Then, for the first time that night, the man's eyes looked up, and connected with another patron's. Will hadn't noticed this man, mainly because he was so focused on the first. But the eyes were the same. Not in color, but with the looks. The two pairs of eyes hadn't even _connected,_ let alone seen the other, but to the keen observer, it was there. The way they looked around the room was the same, skittering and skipping over everything. Will dropped his study of the man with the icy eyes, and instead looked to the man with the black eyes.

They were nearly the exact opposites. Ice blue with deep black hair and pale skin. This new person had black eyes and blacker skin, with surprisingly white blond hair.

It was almost as if they knew each other, but didn't want their relationship to be known.

Will tilted his head, his gaze flicking between either man, wondering what their relationship was.

The front door banged out, revealing three other people with shifty eyes. Two women and another man stepped in, their eyes immediately landing on the first or second man, before skittering off and landing on other parts of the inn. The red headed woman in the center of the trio paused as they stepped out of the whipping wind, her eyes roaming the shadowed seats in the corners. Her eyes specifically tore apart the shadows, looking for someone who might've been sitting in them.

 _She's looking for Rangers,_ Will realized, slowly blinking. _Who else would be hiding in the shadows?_

The man that had been standing at the woman's side marched up to the counter, sliding the hatchet out of it's ring and slamming it point down in the wood. Chips splintered up, cracking the painted veneer. The innkeep pushed his son behind him, stumbling back from the man. The patrons at the bar gasped, a few falling from their perches before they realized that there were more behind the first man. Everyone froze.

Will didn't move.

The man with the icy eyes watched the newcomer's every movement, while the second man with the black eyes watched every patron's movements.

"I think you know why we're here," the main woman proclaimed, stepping forward and slipping a hand onto the man's shoulder. They didn't take the hatchet out of the wood, but the owner sneered menacingly, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Will tipped his head again, studying the woman in the back that had so far done nothing. Her brown eyes skittered across the backs of the people she had came with, flicking across the man with black eyes, as well as the man with ice eyes.

"Y-you don't understand, miss, I can't—" the innkeep started, holding his hands out in front of him, but keeping his entire body in front of the boy. A woman peaked out from the kitchen through a thin window between the the barroom and the kitchen. A muffled cry sounded, before it was cut-off by hurried whispers and sobbing.

The red head frowned, and looked to the man with the hatchet. She jerked her head towards the kitchen door, behind which the mother of the boy continued to sob. Hatchet-man gripped the handle of his hatchet, jerking it from the wood with minimal effort. He moved to go around the side of the counter, but to do so, he would have to walk behind the black-eyed man and the icy-eyed man.

Both stood, dropping their cups with little care. The black-eyed man stepped in front of hatchet-man, balling his hands into fists. Icy-eyed moved to the side, coming around behind the two women. At a glance, the woman in the back stepped to the side, coming closer to Will's table. Her fingers tapped his table nervously, her eyes watching as the scene unfolded before her.

Hatchet-man went down in one hit from black-eyed man, not even able to raise the hatchet in his hand. The red head spun-and went down as icy-eyed smacked the bridge of her nose with his palm.

Will clambered to his feet, startling the other woman who stood in front of him. "'Scuse me," the Ranger said, slipping around her. Everyone in the room watched him, immediately taking in the green-gray of his cloak and the oakleaf at his throat, not to mention the double-scabbard at his hip. He had left his longbow with Tug. Clapping his hands together, Will looked between the two unconscious people on the floor, as well as the two mercenaries that stood above them. "Thanks for that," Will said cheerfully, "I was almost afraid that I would have to get in on that."


	10. 010: Breathe Again

**010: BREATHE AGAIN - Will/Horace**

Rise . . .

Fall . . .

. . .

Rise . . .

Fall . . .

. . .

. . .

Rise . . .

. . .

Fall . . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

* * *

Horace watched Will's chest rise . . . and fall. Without realizing it, his breathing had followed the irregular pattern, choking off half his air supply with him none the wiser. He didn't care. Not with Will in this condition.

The Ranger had _known_ that what he was getting into wasn't going to end well. In fact, before he left, he had told Horace as much as they laid in bed together that last night. Horace had wanted to come with him, but there would have been no way for him to stay hidden as well as Will.

Will shouldn't have gone alone.

Against all orders, Horace had followed after Will, assuming— _knowing—_ that what he was doing could very well ruin everything. It could put Will in more trouble. It could put him in trouble. It could kill them both. But intuition told him that if he didn't retrieve Will before things went south, he would never see his partner again. And he didn't believe he could survive with only one half of himself breathing.

Horace had gotten there just in time.

Will had been discovered. Will had been attacked, savagely.

Because the attackers hadn't known Horace to have been so close behind, they were surprised with his sudden appearance. He quickly defeated them—he honestly wasn't sure if he had left any alive—and taken Will in his arms. He almost believed that the trip back to Araluen had killed the small Ranger, but his chest continued to rise . . . and fall days after they had made it back.

But Will's eyes still hadn't opened. Sometimes Horace could see his eyes moving furtively behind his lids, and sometimes he was as still as a corpse. His chest, though, continued to rise . . . . . . and fall. Albeit, irregularly.

* * *

Multiple people had tried to speak to Horace, but he refused to listen. Duncan, Cassandra, the healer, and Crowley had tried, and gotten no response. Now, Halt, called from Redmont, watched the young man from the hallway, noticing how his breathing matched Will's. Although the two boys probably weren't aware of his knowledge, Halt had known of the relationship between them just a few days after it became official. It was hard to miss: how they seemed closer in public. While they didn't go as far as to kiss or make lewd jokes about the other, they were still more comfortable about touching the other than previously.

Halt didn't care—all that mattered to him was if they were happy.

And alive.

The older Ranger watched Horace's back slouch, his body no longer being able to support him with the little amount of air he was letting through.

Not expecting any reaction, Halt stepped forward. "Horace." He said it quietly, so not to startle him, but sternly.

Horace didn't respond.

Sighing, Halt's eyes turned to Will's prone body, and watched his chest. Covered in bandages as it was, he was still able to watch it rise . . . . . . . . . . . and fall ever so slowly.

"I get it," Halt said, his eyes still focused on Will, "Maybe not exactly, but I do get it, Horace. But think about it this way. You're staying here because you need to be here no matter what happens. No matter if he lives or dies, you need to be here." Uncharacteristically, his voice caught on the word 'dies'. Halt forged ahead. "But right now, Horace, you're conscious. And a conscious, awake body needs to breathe. It needs to breathe again and again and again. Will is still alive right now, and although he's breathing like this, he _can_ still survive like that because he's not conscious.

"Straighten up, Horace. Breathe. I'll get you some food, and then I'll stay with you. I'll stay until he wakes up. And I do _not_ care what happens between the two of you when he does, because all I need right now is just the knowledge that he'll be fine. Okay?"

Halt turned, not expecting an answer. He didn't doubt that Horace wouldn't remember a word he had just said, and that was one of the main reasons he had let some of the desperation he felt slide into his voice.

But then Horace's head lifted up partially, and nodded.

The knight's hand stretched out, taking Will's limp one in his grip. He moved closer, so he was able to hold the Ranger's hand in both of his own.

Sensing that this was a private moment, Halt turned and left. Horace probably hadn't thought that Halt had stayed in the room long after he finished his words.

Or maybe he had.

Maybe he had, and that was his way of telling Halt that he understood what his words meant. That Halt knew. That Halt _knew_ and accepted them.


	11. 092: All That I Have

**(A/N): I can't believe I haven't written any Hill for this one yet. What the hell is wrong with me?**

* * *

 **092: ALL THAT I HAVE - Will/Horace**

"What do you want me to say, Horace?" Will snapped, jerking away from the knight, "That I'm sorry? That I didn't mean to do what I did?" Crossing his arms protectively across his chest, Will took another step away from Horace, not bothering to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

Horace stood, shaking his head, "No, Will, please, that's not what I was trying to say—"

"Well it damn well sounded like it!" Horace flinched at the venom in Will's voice, not recognizing him nor his voice. The anger contorted the Ranger's face, which was already smudged with dirt and dried blood. The tears his partner cried drew tracks down his face, but still, he didn't bother to wipe them away. All Horace wanted to do was wipe them away himself.

"Will—" Horace was cut off once more, as Will suddenly dropped his arms and snatched his cloaked off the peg by the door. "Will, don't _leave,"_ Horace pleaded, following him out as the Ranger opened the door and stalked down the steps of the cabin.

"All you're going to say is how it was only a mistake, and that I can easily fix it," Will threw over his shoulder, not turning around. He continued across the clearing, leaving Tug in the lean-to. "That no one needs to know and that I can leave this behind."

"Will—"

"But have you ever thought that maybe I didn't _want_ to leave it behind? That I'm not ashamed of what I did?" Will continued marching across the clearing, into the woods and on. Horace followed him, not knowing what else to do.

"Will, I—" He tried one last time, ducking under a low branch.

"I'm not sorry. I one-hundred percent knew what I was doing, and meant what I did." Will's indignant rage would have been endearing if Horace hadn't been struggling to keep up with his long strides, which naturally fell into the right places after years of traveling off-road. Even including the fact that Horace had been traveling with the Ranger during most of his off-road trips, the knight didn't have the same instincts that his partner did to artfully avoid natural obstructions. As space increased between them, Will's voice slowly got quieter, as he continued snapping off how he had no regrets over his actions.

"DAMN IT, WILL, LET ME SAY SOMETHING!" Horace yelled after him, finally fed up with being cut off. Ahead of him, Will's fading figure paused, and turned, his cloak swirling around him and obscuring him for a moment with it's camouflage. Not wanting to waste his chance, Horace threw his words out at the barely visible shadow, hoping that the meaning was taken for what they were. "Will, I realize that I sounded like I disapproved, but only because what you did was _really_ dangerous. You could have died. I don't care that it was unethical, or illegal, or, shit, I don't know, immoral. I just care whether or not you make it out alive, and this one sounded like a close call. Not to sound pathetic either, but you're really all that I have. I don't know what I would do without you, so losing you would be losing myself."

Horace stopped with a gasp, dropping an arm he hadn't realized he had raised. As he had been speaking, Will had been inching his way closer and closer, and now the Ranger stood in front of him, considering him with his head tilted to the side. His mouth was partially open, with a question on his lips, but astonishment in his eyes.

They're relationship had been casual before, something that went on and off like the tides. Some days they were "just friends", other days they woke in the same bed, naked and joyous,with hickies on their skin.

And Horace just changed all of that.

Realizing this, Horace cursed under his breath, and looked away. The foliage wasn't that distracting though, especially when you knew the person you loved was staring at you after you confessed your feelings. First, he looked at the ground, feeling the heat crawl up his neck, then cheeks. His eyes traveled the ground, until landing on Will's boots, smudged and dirty and worn down impossibly. His pants were dark brown, not loose, but not tight, with so many patches and stitches that he didn't know why they just weren't replaced. The greenish tunic and brown undershirt, and the brown jacket, just as worn as the pants. And then his face. Dirty and tan and bloody.

And smiling.


	12. 005: Seeking Solace

**005: Seeking Solace - Will/Alyss (angsty angsty angst ;) )**

"Will, get up," Alyss leaned over the bed to shake her husband's shoulder. She was already concerned with how late he had slept, but now he wasn't even responding to her. "Will."

"Mmm," Will groaned, rolling over to cover his head with a pillow.

 _This isn't normal,_ Alyss knew, but didn't say anything of the sort. Instead, she said: "Will, Halt's been waiting for you outside. I told him that you were feeling ill. He wants to talk to you."

When he didn't respond right away, Alyss leaned back over the bed, and grabbed a fist-full of the pillow, before ripping it out of his hands. Rather than respond, Will groaned louder, turned over in the bed, and pulled the covers over his head.

"Will Treaty, you are a grown man, get the hell up," Alyss hissed, swinging the pillow around to hit him. Despite the impact, he still didn't move.

Silence was the only response.

Seething, Alyss spun on her heels and walked out of the room. After quickly apologizing to Halt, and saying that Will wasn't up to getting out of bed, or even opening his eyes, she went back inside. While listening to Abelard's receding hoof beats, the courier filled a cup with water, and went back into their room. She raised the glass, ready to toss it onto Will and get him to follow after Halt and have _him_ explain the situation. But before she even raised her arm, a muffled voice sounded from underneath the blankets. "Please don't throw that water on me."

She scowled. "Then tell me what's going on," she said, setting the glass down on a nightstand. She hadn't meant to set it down so hard, but nonetheless, the water splashed up her arm and, of course, all over her side of the bed.

There was a pause, in which neither her nor Will moved. After a full minute, Will sat up suddenly, pushing the covers off of his chest. He must've changed late in the night, because he wasn't wearing his normal bedshirt, but instead didn't wear a shirt at all. He sat on the bed, considering her.

"Can I tell you something?" he murmured, a surprising amount of despair in his eyes.

Slowly, Alyss sat down on the side of the bed, facing him. She tilted her head to the side, before saying, "You do realize how convoluted that sentence is, right?"

Will paused again. "I would if I knew what convoluted meant," he said, eyes narrowing with a frown.

Alyss sighed. "Twisted. Convoluted means twisted, Will."

His eyes narrowed again. "Why not just say twisted, then?"

Glaring at him, Alyss raised her eyebrow, setting her hands on her hips.

After a moment, Will said, "Either way, do you mind?"

"Will," Alyss said, laughing a little, "I'm your wife. I wouldn't be here if we didn't tell each other things."

Looking away, Will glanced out the window, seeing the sun, and it's noon position. He seemed to consider his words, and in this moment, Alyss saw something that made her heart crack. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, and there were solid frown lines forming right around his laughter lines. How had she not noticed that something was wrong earlier?

"Will?" Alyss whispered, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. At her touch, Will turned his head to look at her, but kept his eyes downwards. His eyes seemed to follow his hand as he reached out to take her other hand in her lap.

"Do you know what we were going to do, Halt and I?" Will murmured, his thumb going over Alyss's knuckles.

She shook her head. "No, neither of you said anything about it. I assumed it was something you had to keep quiet."

Will snorted, his head dropping further. "No, not exactly. Halt just didn't say anything because he's like that. I . . . I didn't want to say anything . . . Mainly because the fact that we had to do something like that kills me inside." He wiped his nose, sniffling as he looked out the window again.

Alyss considered her husband's face for a moment, before pursing her lips. "Tell me," she said, tugging his hand to pull his attention back to her.

"We . . . We had found a small group of bandits, and one thing led to another and today we were going to either catch and turn in or . . . Or kill." Will slipped his hand out of Alyss's and wrapped his arms around his abdomen.

Opening her mouth to respond, Alyss paused, not really sure what to say. It was basically Will's job, what he was describing, so she didn't really see why it bothered him. She knew that similar circumstances were normal for him, happening on a regular enough basis to be considered "normal". What was different about this one?

Before she said anything, Will answered her question. "I—I realize that it just sounds like I'm making something out of nothing, and why should I be worried about something that happens normally, in a job like mine? But, but, Alyss—damn it, I don't even know how to describe it." At his voice cracking, Alyss's head snapped up, just in time to see a tear fall from his face and splash onto the blanket on his lap.

She was to stunned to interrupt.

"Look, I know what my job is, and I knew what it entailed when I accepted the silver oakleaf," Will said, keeping his voice low but no longer whispering. "But that doesn't brush aside my personal opinions or beliefs. The way I saw everything, I tried to get out of every scrap with the least amount of bloodshed as possible. And sometimes that just wasn't possible. Sometimes shit ended with a bloodbath, and I would have to wash in a river for an hour or two before I felt comfortable coming home to you." He took a deep breath, his voice wavering. "And every time that happened, I would have to take a few extra minutes to get control of _myself_ , because I knew it would be worse coming home having a damn panic attack than coming home covered in blood.

"I don't _want_ to hurt people. But sometimes it's just like people _want_ to be hurt. And since I'm where I am, who I am, people use that to their advantage to get hurt. To get killed. And, inside, every time someone dies because of me, I die a little inside.

"It makes me feel almost dirty, having to do these things and then come back to you. I _know_ that you know what I do, and what I have to do. I know you don't care, and, if I asked, would be there for me. But I feel like because of this, I don't _deserve_ you. I don't deserve to be comforted, I don't deserve to have everything made better, because of what I do. I end lives. I literally end lives for a living. Maybe that's not all I do, but I either _end_ lives, or figure out why a life was ended. And if you want to talk about what's convoluted, then how about that shit right there."

Will gasped for breath, his voice having gone faster and faster as he talked. He had barely stopped for a breathe either, and during that, the tears had started to fall freely.

His voice went quiet again, but he continued to speak, this time at a normal speed. "It almost feels like I have to handle two lives, one in which I'm—I'm what I hate, and another where all I fear is the other life. The only reprieve is spending time with you or Horace or Halt or Gilan or Jenny or anyone really, as long as I didn't have to focus on whatever happens while I'm out."

Alyss didn't say anything. She reached forward, taking Will's hand, and covered it with both of hers. "I'll keep it simple, darling," she murmured, and looked to him. She lifted a hand, and touching his cheek, drawing his attention. Their eyes met. "One, I would be worried if you weren't concerned about this honey. It's a problem when you're _not_ worried. And, two, Will, baby, you don't need to _ask_ me for comfort," she paused, letting him take it in. She smiled, "Just come to me, gorgeous, and I will be there. Nothing has to be said or explained. I will be there, whenever you need me, for whatever reason."


	13. 046: Family

**046: Family**

Staring down at the unfinished report, Will chewed his lip until he tasted copper. The incident was so complex that it wasn't that easy to write it all down on a report that assumed everything happened in perfect order, and that everything could be answered in the first place.

 _Name of Instigator:_ it asked, _but, technically_ , Will thought, _I_ _'m the instigator?_

Will tipped his head, and continued reading despite knowing everything the report would ask by heart. He'd lost count of how many of these he'd filled out already in his short career as a graduated Ranger.

 _Description of Incident: (Did they even understand what happened? Not really.)_

 _Name of Responding Ranger: (Me and Halt, but would Gilan be included or would he be left out? Would they get in trouble for leaving out a Ranger that had been involved, no matter how minimally?)_

 _Description of Resolution: (The current incident was resolved. But not the overarching incident. Should they even be filling this out?)_

Letting out a groan, Will flipped the page over to see if there was enough room on the back to write out a full explanation and reasoning for their actions. Crowley would understand their reasoning, and wouldn't really care about how the report was written, just as long as it was sent. But what about Duncan?

The questions went onto the back, leaving only a small amount of open space left for "Additional Notes". Definitely not enough to write out the whole account of the week-long bar-fight that Will had somehow been dragged into the center of.

"You're not done with that yet?" Halt grumbled, walking into the cabin from the front porch. He wore bed clothes, having stayed the night at the cabin rather than bothering Pauline at two in the morning. The mug in his hand was empty, although in the time that Will had been up and working on the report, it had been refilled twice.

Will's eyes flicked up momentarily from the report, only to go right back to scrutinizing the paper. Halt was getting another refill. The night had been rough for both of them, so three cups was nothing.

"I don't even know where to start with this one," he mumbled back, finally tossing down the quill in defeat. "All of the questions either have five different answers, no answer, or it has a single answer but we don't know the damn name or some other unnecessary detail."

Halt shrugged, watching the stream of dark liquid being poured into his cup rather than acknowledging Will with a look. "Then just leave them blank. Write on the back explaining everything."

"I was going to do that," Will said, exasperated, "but they added more questions and now there's no room. Do I grab another sheet of paper? I get that Crowley wouldn't care but Horace mentioned that Duncan would need to see into this one with one of them being from Sonderland."

The noise in the kitchenette ceased. "Which one?"

Will snorted. "The one that decked Gilan. That's the main problem, because the jerk hit Gil and started the fight, than he was arrested, and if the Sonderland government gets offended than it could escalate into something more. You weren't paying attention?"

The older Ranger put his mug down, and turned to face Will. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I was paying attention I was just . . ."

"Asleep?" Will snickered.

"Resting my eyes," he finished, his dark eyes glaring towards his former apprentice. "In my own defense, the last week has been exhausting for all of us."

Knowing his old master, Will decided to drop it. "And we still haven't found that one that ran off on the first night."

"No," Halt said, shaking his head. He seemed to want to end the conversation. He picked his mug back up, and put the steaming cup up to his nose. "But there's really nothing more we can do. A vague description can't do much, Will. Just figure out the report, and let it go."

Will raised his eyebrows, stunned by the fact that Halt wanted to let the whole problem go. "But we know where he's from, and who his friends are. As long as we ask the right questions—"

"Will, seriously. We've asked all the questions we could. He's gone, so let's rest before the next week-long, chaotic bar fight comes up." Seeming to want to avoid the inevitable argument, Halt started to turn towards the door without waiting to see what Will's response would be.

Not having any of it, Will started to stand up. "But Dad, we can't just let the guy go, especially with him nearly snapping that guy Jon's neck, and—"

"Did you just call me Dad?" Halt asked, frowning as he turned to look back at Will before he closed the door.

Knowing full well that he had, Will shook his head. "No."

Halt tipped his head. "What did you say, then?"

 _Do I restate what I said, and possibly have him recall that I_ did _call him Dad on accident, or should I just let it go?_ Will thought for a moment, remembering how the missing person had taken Jon's neck in between his hands, and twisted, how only his fumbling hands saved Jon's life. He also recalled the Sonderland taking the swing at Gilan when he stood in defense of Jon, who, honestly wasn't really worth all the trouble.

He sighed. "Nothing, just forget it." Will waved a hand, and sat back down to continue staring at the paper.

"That's what I thought," Halt said, closing the door before the words registered with Will.

The young Ranger sat at the table in silence for a moment, turning Halt's words over and over in his head. Will looked back down at the report.

In the dead silence, Will took the quill back into his hand, and started writing.

 _Name of Instigator: Jon Marquardt, Will Treaty_

 _Description of Incident: Bar fight that escalated to a targeted physical attack_

 _Name of Responding Ranger: Will Treaty, Dad O_ _'Carrick, Gilan Davidson_

Will stared at the report.

Ten minutes later, Halt stepped back into the room, holding the empty cup.

"Seriously, Will, you need to finish that."


	14. 026: Tears

**(A/N): Well. I wouldn't say I'm _back_ , but it sure is nice to be writing again. Credit for this piece goes to craltchild on tumblr, and, as always, thank you to my darling whentheresawill for her fantastic beta read/help. Enjoy~**

* * *

 **026: Tears - Will/Horace**

Horace didn't know at what point in their relationship he started to feel the guilt for how he treated Will, but it was there, and it hurt. They'd gone from enemies to reluctant friends, from reluctant friends to close friends, and from close friends to, well, lovers. And it was only now, years later, that the knight could barely think of himself as worthy of Will's companionship. Because, really, why would someone who bullied the other relentlessly be allowed back into the victim's life without apologizing? Because Horace hadn't.

In so many years of being by Will's side, he had never apologized for how he had treated him when they were younger.

As Horace studied Will's profile in the flickering light of the fire in the Ranger's cabin, all he could think about were all the different, horrific, names he had called Will when they were younger, and how those same names still floated between them. Never apologized for, never forgiven.

Not that he deserved being forgiven.

Horace dropped his eyes and looked back to the fire. He didn't know how much longer he could live with the guilt.

Will had noticed from the moment Horace had arrived at his door, all through dinner, that something was bothering him. Recently, his friend had gotten more and more closed off, more and more quiet, and only around Will. He had seen him alone with Halt and Pauline when he had visited another time for Battleschool training, and he hadn't been silent and withdrawn then. It was only around him.

The moment Will opened the door to Horace standing on his step, Will resolved to himself to ask the knight what was bothering him. But the night went on, and Will couldn't force himself to say anything. Horace faked an obviously painful smile, and Will played along with it as if he noticed nothing. They ate dinner, they chatted about nothing on the porch, and when it got too dark to see each other, they moved back to the cabin where Will stoked the fire.

They sat in awkward silence for the first time since they became friends, neither of them willing to break the silence.

Abruptly, Horace stood. "I . . . I should go," he murmured, unwilling to look Will in the face.

Will was taken aback. "I thought . . . I thought you were gonna stay the night?" he asked, standing up to follow his partner to the door.

"I—uhm," Horace seemed to search for an excuse, his cheeks flaring red. He still refused to look Will in the eye, carefully avoiding the other man's hurt yet concerned look. "I . . ." He trailed off.

Reaching out, Will gently took a hold of Horace's elbow. He at first didn't seem to notice it, but when his shoulders hunched over, Will knew that he had gotten his attention. "Horace," Will whispered, pulling lightly on the knight's arm to turn him around. "Horace, what's wrong? What happened to us?"

In that moment, the only thing to be heard was the inhale and exhale of one person and the crackle of the fire. Will couldn't help but notice that Horace seemed to have physically stopped his breathing as if he couldn't handle doing it at the same time as having this discussion that he was apparently avoiding.

"Horace?" Will repeated, leaning closer. "You can talk to me, y'know. It's what couples normally do," he murmured, a small smile quirking his lips in an attempt to get a reaction from his partner. And there was a small one. Horace's eyes flicked upwards from the floor, finally looking Will in the eye. His chest started to rise and fall as he resumed breathing.

But the look in his eyes told Will that it was only a small victory.

Gently tugging on the knight's elbow, Will coaxed him back towards the fire, foregoing the couch in favor of sitting on the floor to be closer. As he sat, the Ranger turned his body so he would be facing Horace as he sat down, and took both of the knight's hands in his own. "Talk to me," he said again, rubbing his thumbs against the other man's palm.

"Will . . ." Horace trailed off again, a pained look flashing across his face. He looked to the fire instead of at Will and was silent for a moment.

He seemed to be considering his words, rather than trying to get out of the conversation as he had before. Will remained silent.

"I never apologized," he said simply, the words finally escaping his lips. Horace regretted them the moment they were released, knowing he had just ruined everything. Will may have been worried before, but now he would be hurt. Would he think Horace had been taking advantage of him? Would he want him to leave, as he had wanted to just moments before?

"Apologized for what?" Will asked, seemingly confused. His face was scrunched up, his nose crinkled and his eyebrows furrowed. It was adorable, but Horace wouldn't say that now. Not after he had broken the dam, and started the flood.

Something brushed his cheek. Will had let go of one of Horace's hand and used a thumb to brush away a tear that had fallen. When had he started to cry?

But he had started, and now he wasn't going to stop. He could feel the pain behind his eyes increase, and the need to just let it out nearly overwhelmed him. Instead, Horace swallowed and backed away from Will's touch. "I was a horrible person before, Will. I called you horrible names, hurt you, isolated you from the others, and thought it was _funny._ And you just took it. And-and now we're a _we_ and before that we were friends and we never even acknowledged how much of an asshole I was to you before all of this. How was me standing up for you from people who came after _me_ any sorts of an apology? Maybe we got past the awkwardness and maybe, maybe we were okay with that for a while but since we've gotten closer, Will, I just can't let it go and it's been eating me inside and out about how I treated you, because you really didn't deserve any of that and yet I did it just because—because why? I didn't even have a reason, and I still did it. I did it because I thought it was funny and it _hurt_ you and now here we are pretending that never happened and I hate it— _I hate it so much_ , Will, that I did this to you and act like I didn't." Horace gasped, and jerked backward, away from Will. What had he done?

Now that it was out of him, he had to admit he felt better. That sinking feeling in his chest was no longer there, and sometime during his tirade, his willpower to withhold his tears had cracked, and his face was wet and his nose was running. He felt better, but he also knew that he ruined something special. All the cards were on the table, and he hated every single one that he held.

Will's face, which he hadn't been able to look at since he finished speaking, was as emotionless as a stone. His lips, red from where he had been chewing on them while they talked, were parted, his breathing shallow. His eyes, though, were focused directly on Horace's face. He could feel them dissecting him, scrutinizing him. It was an expression Horace was familiar with seeing on Will's face, and he knew that Will was mentally taking a step back from the situation to think about it.

Horace sniffed, sensing his nose running. Using a sleeve, he dried his tears and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said simply, his voice quiet.

The words seemed to recall Will back to the present. Maybe he hadn't been considering the situation, but remembering the past.

 _Will No-Name,_ Horace thought, studying his partner's face in the silence. The Ranger blinked, closed his lips, and straightened his back. He moved his legs to sit cross-legged and placed his hands on his knees. He took a breath, and then—he smiled.

"Horace," he murmured, the smile still curling his lips, "Horace, I'd honestly forgotten all of that years ago." He brushed his hair to the side, away from his face. He'd only recently gotten back from a mission, and it had grown. He hadn't cut it yet, and Horace thought the longer hair suited him. It was messy as always, curly and wild, with the longer strands held back by a band, and Horace loved it like that.

"Horace," Will said, calling his attention back to him. He was still smiling. "I get why you think you need to apologize. And, yea, it hurt being called 'Will No-Name, and being chased from the group like I didn't belong." Horace winced and looked down. Hands grabbed his, tugging him playfully back into Will's space. "But," the Ranger said, "but after all of these years? Calling me No-Name was a painful truth, but it doesn't apply to me anymore. And, to be quite honest, I think you've repaid everything you've mentioned." Will tugged his hands again, and Horace relented, letting himself be dragged back to Will's side.

Red lips touched his temple and coaxing hands drew him closer. Will leaned into Horace's side, snuggling up beside him despite the other man's hesitation. Will slipped his arms around Horace's torso, and, finally, Horace relaxed into his grip.

They were silent for a few moments before his insecurity caught up with him.

Horace sat up and started to say, "Will, I can't—" before Will snorted, and drew him back. But instead of them going back to awkward cuddling, Will swung his leg around, straddling Horace's lap to look him in the face. The knight, stuck underneath the small Ranger, stayed where he was.

"Horace Altman, listen to me for a moment." Will pushed Horace back against the edge of the couch, and leaned in, their noses nearly touching. Will's eyes narrowed as he said, "I've forgiven you years ago because nothing needed to be said until now. After the fight with those bullies—god, I don't even remember their names—after that, we became that 'we' you mentioned. You came to Celtica with me, you came after Evanlyn and I after the Skandians snatched us, all the way to Skandia, and fought in a war because of it, and that's only our first year. Do I have to go on to the second year?" Will paused a moment, staring pointedly at Horace. He opened his mouth to say something, but Will continued as if he had been waiting for him to start talking. "What I'm trying to say, Horace, is that you may not have apologized with words. Instead, though," the Ranger sat back, sitting awkwardly on Horace's legs, and smiled ruefully, "instead, you apologized with your actions. And in my book, that's the best apology there is."

Will reached forward and took Horace's hands in his own. He stretched out his legs like a cat, and set them to either side of Horace's hips, before leaning forward to place his lips on the back of one of Horace's hands. Instinctively, Horace let his hands slip from Will's, and drew him to his chest, twisting them both awkwardly until Will started giggling and their legs tangled and Horace's shoulders slipped from the edge of the couch, and he had to cushion his head with an arm instead. Will wrapped his arms around Horace's waist once more, this time using his partner's chest as a pillow. They laid side-by-side in silence, listening to the fire crackle in relative peace as they both began to doze off to sleep. They would be sore in the morning from sleeping on the floor, but getting up would ruin the moment, and that was worth it.

Holding his Ranger tightly, Horace buried his face in Will's hair and neck and closed his eyes. "I'm—I'm just . . . I'm so sorry. For all of it," he whispered against warm skin.

Twisting so they were chest to chest, Will laying half on top of Horace, he cupped the knight's face and brushed his lips against his partner's. "I know. And I forgive you."


	15. 035: Take My Hand

**035: Take My Hand**

Horace gasped, his eyes widening in surprise as he watched something going on on the other side of the courtyard.

Beside him, Will folded his arms across his chest and turned an incredulous gaze on his friend. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in Horace's direction. He had been watching the stable boys try to get a handle on Horace's horse Kicker, which was no easy feat.

Extending his hand, Horace turned to Will. "Take my hand. Now."

Sensing the seriousness in Horace's voice, Will took Horace's hand, lacing their fingers together with no hesitation. "Okay," he said, frowning in concern.

After a moment, when Horace said nothing else, Will tipped his head in question-like a puppy, Horace realized, which was adorable. "Now what?" Will said, looking amused, but still slightly concerned.

Shrugging, Horace smiled, tugging Will closer by their joined hands. "Nothing. I just wanted to hold hands," he said, jutting his chin in the direction he was watching.

Will's frown, which had transformed into a smile at hearing Horace's comment, turned to where Horace had motioned. In the distance, he could see two figures in conversation. One was short, in a green-grey cloak, while the other was tall, and in a white courier uniform. For a moment, Will couldn't tell what had drawn Horace's to his mentor and Pauline's conversation.

After a moment, though, the two friends watched as the older Ranger got down on one knee, completely public, and took Pauline's hand.

Will gasped, squeezing Horace's hand in surprise and covering his mouth with his other hand. "Oh my god," he whispered, leaning into Horace's shoulder. "Oh my god."


End file.
